Trouble with Tomatoes a Swede and gay Delirious heat-stroke victim
by SleepDeprivedHetalians
Summary: Prompt: One day, Spain was picking tomatoes in his field when he found there was one he couldn't reach. He headed inside to find a ladder but instead bumped into Sweden! This is insane and makes no sense but hope you enjoy anyway.


_We were sleep deprived again and I am sorry and ashamed of this but hope you enjoy anyway_

One day, Spain was picking tomatoes in his field when he tried to reach for one on the top branch. He got on his tippy toes and reached, but was unable to grasp the ruby orb. He shrugged and headed inside to find a ladder but instead bumped into Sweden!

Sweden looked down at the energetic Spaniard. "Hello."

Spain, in all of his wonderful, Spanish glory, looked surprised at the tall Swede. He looked intimidating, sure enough with his steely eyes and built frame, but nothing like Romano's endless tirades. So he was basically fearless. FEARLESS. Because if he could withstand the wrath

"Hello, mi amigo, how are you?"

Sweden shrugged. "Fine. Was in the area, figured I'd visit. How are you?"

(This is when things go downhill)

Spain stuck a movie-style pose, something he had seen in one of Romano's rom-coms, and batted his eyelashes. However, his winking could have used some work (Was he flirting? Was he having a seizure? Who knows).

"You okay?" Sweden asked, vaguely concerned as he was pretty sure a body was not meant to move like that. The Spaniard had his foot flung up on the back of a chair and was arching his back. Sweden's _**g**_ _ **a**_ _ **y**_ (gay) mind did have to admit, it gave him a wonderful view of the spaniard's booty but it also looked like he broke his back, so he was concerned. That combined with the facial spasm had Sweden wondering if he needed to call an ambulance.

Spain coyly nodded back, working through the pain he felt in his lower back and left side of his face, surely giving Sweden the View. Of. His. Life. He was a charmer, a troublemaker, a handsome son of a gun, not a flirting failure. However, his back would start to crumble if he kept this up. Maybe he should arch his neck back? Is that attractive? That's what he seen in Twilight, and everyone loved them. Worth a shot!

Sweden became even more concerned at the neck yanking backward. He wasn't sure what to do but he had a feeling that if Spain stayed like that, he would hurt himself. With an embarrassed blush, he grabbed Spain around the waist and picked him up, setting him on the ground. "Better? Not dying now?" He mumbled.

With another blush, the Spaniard looked up at Sweden with a kawaii sparkle in his eyes. His cheeks looked like tomatoes, and he again winked (Sweden was, at this point, very very concerned.).

"You see, my Swedish friend, I am constantly dying… of my love for you." And with that, Spain took out a rose he had stashed in his shirt for this very occasion. Yes, he was bleeding profusely from the shallow cuts the sharp thorns had made on his tan, smooth back, but _BEAUTY IS PAIN_.

Sweden looked at him, blinking quickly. Now he was sure that Spain was not okay. "This is the first conversation we've had. Finland is my wife. You can be our son." Sweden patted him on the head gently, taking the chance to feel his forehead and make sure he wasn't running a fever. "Do you need help with something Älskling?"

"Swedey-poo! I knew you loved me! You called me love, didn't you? That's what Denmark used to call me before I confessed my undying love for you, Sweden. However, I see you have eyes for another guy. I will not let this come to pass. I will not be your son, I will not be your friend, and I will not be your jilted lover! Let go of me you handsome beast, while I leave to go get my beautiful tomatoes," he dramatically exclaimed, letting the rose fall to the earth in a heap of sadness and rejection. Just like his soul. (edgy).

Sweden blinked some more, hung up on the fact the Spain knew what the term meant and that he had heard from Denmark. When had that happened? Why had that happened? "Need help with your tomatoes?"He decided the best course of action would be to ignore everything else the Spaniard had said since none of it had made any sense.

Spain gave one last, short, blood-curdling indignant cry, and marched away, making sure to stomp on the fragile rose, making sure it dragged on the floor while on the way out, and making sure he had left his impression. His footsteps echoed off the lonely walls, and he felt sure he could feel Sweden's eyes follow his every move out the door. However, a wave of dizziness befell upon him before he could even make it that far. With a glance behind him, and at the Swede's chiseled face and marble-like skin, he grinned and fell not so gracefully to the floor. Probably broke a few bones. Or all of them. Again, who knows?

When Spain had started to fall, Sweden had rushed forward to try and catch him. He didn't make it in time and heard a rather sickening crash as Spain landed nose first on the ground. Sweden blinked then connected the dots, figuring that Spain must have had a heat stroke. That would explain the insane behavior, his brain had been fried. Sweden picked him up and brought the Spaniard inside, laying him on the couch. He laid some cool wet washcloths on his forehead and bandaged his nose. He decided it would be best to hang around and wait until he woke up to make sure he was okay.

Now, when Spain had fallen, he had thought, through his over-cooked, nearly empty brain, that he was going to Die. With Sweden's face as his last vision. However, here, waking up nearly to his senses, he appreciated that there was a man here, doting on him as would a parent, or friend. Now, who was this strange man?

Sweden had been sitting nearby in a chair, texting Denmark to find out when he had called Spain Älskling. Turns out one time Spain, Denmark, Prussia and France had gone out drinking and started comparing languages to find the prettiest. That made a lot more sense. Sweden eventually looked up and saw Spain awake. "How you feeling?" He asked, coming over to look at him.

"I feel.. Confused? I don't exactly feel myself… how long have I been out? What happened to me?" he asked, feeling his nose and the bump the injury had made. He felt the pain of healing scratches on his back, and his eyes shot open. He went rigid with fright.

 _He had taken out the rose, and god help who he had given it to._

"You had a heat stroke. Went kind of crazy. Might want to rest for some time." Sweden figured it would be best to not go into detail about what had happened.

"Okay," he said, laying back down on the soft couch, and fell asleep to the noises of Sweden shifting around, and remembered something about having a seizure? While trying to wink?

 _He never did get to pick any tomatoes._


End file.
